


Nights in White Corridors

by Samsangel_Gabrielsmoose



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Pre-Sherlock/Greg, Sherlock is a stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsangel_Gabrielsmoose/pseuds/Samsangel_Gabrielsmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I like comments ;)</p></blockquote>





	Nights in White Corridors

It was 4:30 AM, and dark as hell. Greg’s eyes were half closed, his feet dragging… and he had to be back at work by 8 o’clock. The images of a murdered mother of 3 blinded him momentarily and he slumped against the wall. ‘Come on’ he muttered, pushing himself upright. His eyes remained closed as he crawled sluggishly down the corridor. The wall against his shoulder guided him down the hall, slowly, slowly… Until his foot hit something soft.  
“Open your eyes when you’re walking, Sergeant.” An indignant voice sounded from below him. There was a young man lying across the corridor with his back against the wall, and Greg’s cat on his lap. He was wearing a black fashion jacket and his dark hair was a cloud of messy curls. Ginger cat hair peppered his sprayed on jeans. He was pale and thin, hands bony and cheeks hollow.  
Greg closed his mouth and swallowed. “Why are you in my corridor?” He asked intelligently, running a hand through his greying hair. “I was cold, and my brother is being an asshole. It’s warmer in here than out there.” The man looked up at Greg for the first time, his eyes ocean coloured behind his wide blown pupils. “Fluffy. Not a particularly original name for a cat. But, then your wife named him didn’t she? She’s left you now, hasn’t she? Why didn’t she take it with her? New partner was probably allergic. Why didn’t you take it to an animal shelter? Were you lonely, Sergeant? I think you were. You’d have no trouble attracting a partner, I’m sure, so you’re still attached to her. So you kept the cat to remind you of her. Sentiment, I suppose.” He pushed his head back to the wall, closing his eyes. Greg stared at him, trying to process the information he had received. “How did you know? Who the hell are you?”   
The man looked at him again, smiling lazily. “I deduced it. It wasn’t hard. Missing wedding ring, empty flat, greying hair… All the signs are there. The rest followed on from that.” He pushed himself up from the floor with grace, outstretching his hand. “Sherlock Holmes.” He said. His hand was icy cold. Greg stared up at him for a few short moments “Greg Lestrade” he replied. Sherlock’s lip quirked into a smile. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now if you will excuse me, I have some… things to pick up.”  
Greg nodded “’Bye.” He choked, as the other turned the corner. He picked up his cat and up locked the door to his flat, switching on the light.  
On the coffee table for a cup of tea, brewed perfectly and a container of his favorite take-away. And a note, in a shaking, spirally print.

Have a good day, Sergeant. SH

**Author's Note:**

> I like comments ;)


End file.
